


Timeless

by QuietlyPondering



Series: Aeternalis [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic-Users, Suicide Attempt, Superpowers, Temporary Character Death, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyPondering/pseuds/QuietlyPondering
Summary: In a society where superpowers are the new era on the horizon - Virgil is happy flying under the radar, as much as he can, with government issued blockers. Life was… Normal - Or, at least, as normal as he could be. Until one day, as cheesy as it sounds, a simple train ride would change his life forever.





	1. Dear In the Headlights

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I want to thank Vic (@RoyallyAnxious on tumblr) for helping me so much with this au! If it weren't for you I never would've gotten this far in its creation!! I also wanna thank my beta reader (@Kolurise on tumblr) for helping me make everything flow nicely and my shoddy sense of tenses!

_Imagine what it’s like to live your life both on overdrive and in slow motion at the same time._

_For the first 19 years of my life, that was mine._

_This is my story._

_Many years ago. 9pm. Sunday._

It was late - and Virgil had spent the past twenty minutes with his head against the window, watching the train tracks whizz past through the hazy darkness. Sleep never could come to him on public transport. The constant moving and jostling would never allow him such a luxury. It didn’t help that it’d been over 8 hours since the audition, and he still hadn’t heard anything about it. He just wanted to be back in his warm bed and soft pillows - not the scratchy, horrible hotel sheets he’d been sleeping on for the last day and a half.

See, it was times like this when he wished he worked differently. 

Virgil sighed softly, watching his breath fog up the window and dissipating almost as quickly as it hit the glass. The only comforting thing was the sprawling cityscape beneath him. Dozens of golden streetlights lined the roads - a mass of multicoloured neon signs provided some semblance of repose.

It was harder to see in the dark, but as he followed the lights with his eyes, he caught a glimpse of the park he would frequent with his parents as a kid. The surrounding street lamps lit up what was left of it, at least. It was one of the unfortunate casualties - before the government began issuing blockers to individuals with a more dangerous or powerful variety of ability.

It’d been twelve years. Couldn’t they have at least tried to fix it back up?

His gaze turned to the tracks ahead - they curved to the left, so he could see them almost perfectly. His brows furrowed as he noticed something move onto the tracks ahead - an animal perhaps? No. An animal would’ve heard or seen the train by now- this was...

His mouth went dry as he pressed his cheek closer to the window, trying to discern what he was seeing. The train edged closer, and the small speck turned into a figure - a person, stood in fixed anticipation. A hundred possibilities rushed through his mind: what could he do? Could he stop the train? He chewed on his lip anxiously, watching as the train grew steadily closer to the figure on the tracks.

Without even thinking, he jumped into action. Standing from his position abruptly enough to turn a few gazes towards him - he called out “H-Hey- stop the train! There’s someone…”

Upon the realisation that people either couldn’t hear or just weren’t listening, he sped over to the door, moving frantically for the emergency stop button - pressing it several times before realising. No, there’s not enough  _ time _ . Unless…

He turned his gaze to his wrist - pulling up his hoodie to expose his own blocker. It was metal, almost like a handcuff, and garishly bulky. Just pulling it off wouldn’t be enough. But the train was edging closer to that person on the tracks. He chewed at his bottom lip - his fight or flight reflexes were really kicking in. There was no more time, he had to -

With all the strength he could garner, he wedged his fingers into a small gap between his wrist and the blocker, and started to pull, wincing as the cold metal on one side dug deeper into his skin while he tried to pry it off. One final tug caused it to fly off of his wrist - but before it could even hit the floor, Virgil snapped his fingers, the metal bracer was stuck, hovering barely a few inches above the ground. It was like he’d taken a TV remote and just pressed pause.

Some would say Virgil was lucky.  _ An ability like that? _ People would tell him -  _ Kid, you’re going places.  _ Mostly, he would just say it was more trouble than it was worth. When people heard ‘time powers’ they immediately thought ‘wow! So you could stop time forever if you wanted!’ which wasn’t…  _ entirely true _ . Even without the ugly metal blocker, there was a definitive limit to his powers. He was fairly certain that stopping time forever went beyond that threshold.

Despite this - Virgil would often find solace in moments like this. This one, however? This was… Certainly not one of them. 

Without thinking, he grabbed an umbrella from a nearby chair, gathered all the strength he could possibly muster, and smashed right through the door of the train, into the cool night air.

Virgil took a deep breath, dropping the now broken umbrella on the ground and jogging over to the front of the train - and sure enough, there he was. A boy, around his age by the looks of it, stood firmly, stubbornly,  _ expectantly _ rooted in the middle of the tracks.

Virgil had read so many books where this scene might be described as  _ beautiful  _ or _ picturesque  _ or  _ serene,  _ but the guttural feeling of  _ horror _ he felt made the feeling in his stomach less ‘butterflies’ and more...  _ nausea _ . He wondered how anyone could think that's what this kind of thing looked like.

He was frozen. Almost as still as the frozen time around him - and he was stuck staring at the man in front of him. Tall, nice clothes, short curly hair, hands deep in his pockets - his jaw was clenched and he was poised expectantly. Waiting. Looking head on at the train as if trying to stare it down.

He could feel the seconds begin to slip past his fingers.

And the moment he began to wonder ‘ _ why? _ ’, time came rushing back. There was a split second, where the boy on the tracks turned his gaze towards him, and if Virgil didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that a hint of recognition had flashed across his eyes. Virgil stood momentarily in shock, and before the train could even finish passing, he was gone. Suddenly, he was in bed with his laptop playing the tail end of a Disney movie - just as he had been exactly 24 hours ago.

Instead, however, he paused the movie and fell back onto his pillow, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. His whole body felt like it was practically on fire. The sheer amount of energy ripped from his very core left him shaky and breathless.

He was unsure… what the purpose of turning back time even was. It felt impossible. Hell, it  _ was  _ impossible. What made him think he could go out and find a stranger, with no leads, in less than 24 hours?

Virgil chewed nervously on his bottom lip. His eyes flit over to the clock - 9pm. Right. A nagging feeling in his chest told him to give up. Just ignore it. Leave him be. What business does he have saving a life?

But he knew he could never be the person to let someone else die, when he may have had a chance.

He lifted his hands to his face, rubbing at his eyes, as if willing himself to think of something,  _ anything  _ he could do. So many ideas running through his head - so much that he could barely keep track of them all. It was like his mind was in overdrive.

He couldn’t get the image out of his head. He just looked so… sure of himself. Like he was ready. Like he knew what would happen - and Virgil thought about the look in his eyes for a while. It was like he recognised him.

And then it clicked.

“...Holy shit.” he muttered under his breath. He’d seen those same blue eyes before - they’d met ever so briefly just earlier that day. They’d both been auditioning for a low-budget production at the local theatre. He was- 

“...Roman.”


	2. Time and Again

_ Virgil was reeling. _

Whatever semblance of fight-or-flight had been aiding him before had simply vanished, leaving but a nagging feeling in his chest and a loud, strident ringing in his ears.

He raised his arms and began rubbing angrily at his eyes, practically pleading for the oncoming headache to dwindle away. Virgil was  _ not _ an idea guy. He could barely even remember his lines for the audition he bombed.

Or-

He bolted upright in such a fashion that he felt almost too light-headed to stay sitting up... It had barely even occurred to him that he’d have a second chance at the audition, too.

Yes, okay, he could easily have taken his blocker off and retried over and over again; but quite frankly, Virgil couldn’t be bothered. It would take effort - and it wasn’t like there weren't any side effects for him  _ or  _ the people unwittingly exposed to his power. That wasn’t to say the effects were dangerous - but he’d rather not be responsible for a large group of people experiencing spontaneous migraine-induced-nausea, due to excessive repeats.

Speaking of blockers, Virgil turned his attention back to the ugly piece of metal around his wrist. The feeling of freedom he felt when finally able to use his powers was… Unprecedented. Sure, meddling with time was a headache in and of itself - but it was like he could finally breathe. Like a weight that he hadn’t even noticed had been lifted off of his shoulders.

That wasn’t to say it wasn’t comforting, either. Having a blocker was like… having the option to be average. Unexceptional.

...What was he even doing? Virgil stared down at the blocker, fiddling with the feeling of it on his wrist. What did he think would happen? Virgil didn’t even  _ know _ the guy - and yet here he was, just…

Sitting on a hotel bed in his underwear, contemplating the circle of life, apparently.

What made him think he could play with time all for one damn guy he didn’t even know? He found himself chewing on his bottom lip.

Taking a moment to collect himself, if just a little, Virgil began to work the blocker off of his wrist. There was that surge of power again - that rush of energy. He could almost describe it as addictive. Or, maybe it was just like when you haven’t had enough water, so your body  _ aches _ for it until you’re re-hydrated. 

Virgil took a deep, much-needed breath, before setting an alarm for the morning, and trying his best to sleep.

It took him a while, sure, but the next thing he knew, light was pouring in through the curtains, and his phone was vibrating softly by his head.

The first time this day happened, Virgil had woken up completely bewildered. He ran his lines over and over in his head - so much so that, when it came to the actual audition… He completely froze.

It’d be nice if he could remember anything about the day but that moment. With a sigh, he readied himself, and shuffled out the front door. He had a good extra hour or so to kill, but Virgil still found himself fidgety, anxious. Perhaps coffee would help.

The coffee shop was, thankfully, barely a three minute walk away - and just the smell of it wafting down the street was enough to keep him from being too jittery.

Not a moment later, he was juggling change with ordering a small latte to go. He had more time to survey his surroundings now - and his eyes set on watching absently as an older woman reheated her drink with her bare hands with only a vague level of intrigue.

Perhaps he’d be fascinated if he himself were powerless.

Virgil took a sip of his coffee and left with what felt like all the time in the world. He made his way to the building - this time succeeding in not getting lost (thank god), and made quick work of signing in at the front desk.

Maybe he should do this more often. Just… let the first audition go poorly, and then redo the day.

...Hah, yeah right.

Like he could possibly keep apt control of his power for long enough to do it right.

The moment that thought entered his head - he stepped through to the waiting room, meeting eyes with… _ Roman _ . They were the only two in the room, which was… Probably not as unexpected as it should have been, considering he was a good hour and a half earlier than he was the day before. And Roman had told him during their brief first meeting he’d had an early time slot, too.

It’s not like Virgil didn’t want to help - but he felt awkward just… making small talk. What was he going to do, go up to him and say “Please steer clear of train tracks tonight”. What kind of dumb-

“Hey! You’re here for the audition too?” A warm tone interrupted his thoughts from across the room. His look of panicked surprise must have been obvious, because Roman continued before he could begin gathering his thoughts.

“Feeling nervous?” Roman asked, giving Virgil a wide grin.

Virgil hesitated. “And you, uh. Seem confident.” ...Virgil  _ really _ hated small talk.

Roman shrugged, “If you act confident even when you aren’t, usually they’ll see it as confidence anyway. Fake it til you make it! That’s what I always say,” Roman winked, and after a moment of thought, grabbed his bags and moved closer to where Virgil was sitting.

“I’m Roman, by the way.” Roman extended a hand, and Virgil hesitantly shook it.

“Uh, Virgil... Hey.”

A fairly awkward pause wafted through the air - Roman digging through his bag to retrieve his phone, and Virgil tapping distractedly on his knee.

“Which part are you going for?” Roman inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“...I don’t know. I mean. I… Guess any of them? What about you?”

“I’m going for Mercutio, personally.”   
  
“Mercutio? Really?” Virgil blinked, a little bewildered.   
  
A small smirk edged its way onto Roman’s lips. “Surprised?”   
“N-No you just… don’t strike me as a…  _ Mercutio _ kinda guy. You seem more like a lead,”   
  
“Well - I have played Romeo before! I’d like to play somebody else this time - although, I wouldn’t say  _ no _ to a chance to reprise my role.” Roman paused, thinking a moment, before saying, “Also Mercutio is definitely gay.”

“...For Romeo or Benvolio?”

“Benvolio  _ for sure, _ ”   


“Oh, yeah, definitely”   
  
“...You should totally go for Benvolio.”

They spoke for a while - and Virgil found it surprising how effortless it became to talk to Roman. It was easy to forget about the scene from yesterday. The look of stubborn determination in his eyes, how he was poised, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the shadows on his face gleaming with light from the oncoming train. He seemed so nonchalant - it was… unsettling.

He looked so different from this Roman, the one sat in front of him. Excited, if a little nervous. Sure of himself, but not foolhardy... Or ready to die, it seemed.

...Not that Virgil could possibly know what was going on in his head.

Where’s that mind-reader from 3rd grade when you need him, huh?

“Oh- this is me.” Roman stood, raising a hand to wave goodbye, and Virgil’s eyes fell on Roman’s arm as his hoodie slid down. There, sure enough, was a metal bracer. Not unlike his own that currently sat on a hotel room floor.

Before Virgil could say anything more, Roman was gone. 

And so was Virgil.


	3. Blink and you'll miss it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read, given a kudos, or even commented!! Only a couple more chapters to go, and we'll be done with the first part of the series!!! I'm so glad you're enjoying it! <3 and another big thank you to my beta reader @kolurise on tumblr who is doing the lords work!!

Going forwards in time wasn’t a taboo per se, but it was certainly something that Virgil felt very strongly against, unless the circumstances were particularly dire. Understandably so - because backwards in time was one thing - but forwards was…

You never knew what would happen. Going forward was a lot more unpredictable, to say the least. It was damn near impossible to control. He could end up anywhere. It’s one of the few things he agreed on being far too dangerous to use unless it was a dire circumstance - what if he got stuck? What if he accidentally, unwittingly changed the future?

And sure - he’d done it before as a kid, back when his powers were first coming in. He vividly remembered his mother freaking out, thinking he’d gone missing, only for him to turn up the next day right next to her.

...The week following his escapade was spent almost completely bedridden.

And he’d come _this far._

What’s another few rules to break? Virgil knew the consequences.

He eyed Roman carefully - watching as he left for the audition, and taking a moment to ready himself. With a simple flick of the wrist, he was flung forward in time.

It’s important to note here, that the future is unforgiving. The past is the past - but the future knows things that you don’t. The future is harsh and terrifying, no matter what kind of future it is, no matter what you think might happen… The future is simply incomprehensible.

And Virgil could feel it. The seconds turning to minutes, then hours, thundering past him like a hurricane, forcing all air from his lungs. His fingers began to ache - and then his feet, his arms, his throat caught on the sound of a billion voices screaming into his skull.

He could turn back.

He could stop - right now - he could leave everything as it was. Let a death be just another goddamn death.

But Virgil was just too stubborn.

He pushed on - the whirlwind of time forcing his eyes shut. He moved his sluggish arms - pressing his fingers over his ears to try and get rid of the loud sirens in his head.

As he awoke - and he did finally wake, his breathing was shaky and erratic - It was like something had literally, physically taken his breath away. He was winded, and nauseous, and Virgil felt himself dizzy as a new scene shifted into view. A police car zoomed down the road outside.

“...Love?”

Something was holding his hand. He flinched, wrenching it away in momentary panic.

Virgil forced his eyes open; at first the light was bright, far too bright, but as they adjusted to the sun beaming in through some large windows, he realised he knew exactly who this was. Hair, curly and… longer. His eyes filled with a kind of worry he hadn’t seen directed at him in a long time.

“Roma-...? What day is it?” Virgil asked frantically, trying in vain to catch his breath.

“Uh. Saturday?”

“No, no I mean. Year. Month. I don’t have much-” He breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Oh- you said this would… Virgil, listen to me,” Roman, placed his hands reassuringly on Virgil’s shoulders. And Virgil recognised those eyes. He knew what would happen. “Virgil. You have to let me die.”

Virgil froze - his eyes shot straight up, right into Roman’s. It was the first time he’d looked _straight_ at his eyes; not that he’d had a reason to before, but this was…

“Wh- What… the fuck?”

This was _insane._

“I’m serious! Just. _Trust me._ ”

“No- I’m sorry, _what?”_ He blinked a few times, before chewing nervously on his lip. Quietly, under his breath, he began mumbling, “If… this is the future… and you’re here… That means it… worked? I saved you?”

“Virgil-”

“But I-”

“Just let me _die_ , Virge.” The sheer amount of urgency in his voice was enough to make anyone’s stomach lurch.

His hands began to go numb - and Virgil managed to get one last look at this future, before he got pulled god knows where. It was almost like a rollercoaster - he’d gotten all the way to the top, and there were only a few seconds left before--

...He’d always hated roller coasters.

The loud, incessant shrieking in the back of his skull certainly sounded a lot more shrill as he was flung backwards. Any amount of control he may have had was gone. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping for the vertigo to pass - but by the time it did, he was already back in that damn…

Virgil let out a low, irritable sound as he somehow, with whatever strength he had left, opened his heavy eyes.

Thankfully he didn’t have to deal with the sun digging its way into his eyes with the force of a monster truck. Virgil groaned, forcing his chest into a fit of coughing.

He pulled his hand away, grimacing at the droplets of blood in the middle of his palm.

“Ah, shit…” Virgil croaked, staring blankly at the ceiling before pulling himself out of bed - struggling for a moment to steady himself.

It was fine, he thought, he’d had a whole night to sleep and then some.

God, he didn’t even care about the audition anymore. Rubbing his eyes, he surveyed the room - his blocker was… on the floor.

Where he had left it, just before he went to the audition. In the morning.

His eyes went wide, and Virgil scrambled to look at the date on his phone. His stomach dropped as he read 7:42 pm -- in the evening. He… had an hour.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Virgil kicked himself into gear. Pulling on a coat, he stuffed his phone deep into one of his pockets, and with everything he had in him - he burst through the door.

He didn’t understand-- He saved him. Virgil saw, with his own two eyes, Roman - sitting in front of him as if nothing had ever fucking happened.

And he had the gall to tell Virgil to do the exact opposite of what he was trying to do.

One life. That’s all he asked. One goddamn stupid freaking life.

Oh, how those adults would be fawning over him now. “Putting your power to good use, I see!!” Fuck that. Fuck them.

For the first time in his life he could feel the wind in his hair as he raced against time.

He could feel his lungs protest against him as he sped down the street - passersby shot him odd glances that would usually cause him to withdraw - but he didn’t care.

The wind had messed up his hair as he ran, his feet stung, his lungs felt weak and numb but he was filled with a stubborn determination he didn’t have before.

It would take him, what, half an hour, at least? To catch a bus that may or may not even arrive in time, ride it to the station, and somehow get to Roman.

But it was the only choice he had.

He stood slumped against the bus shelter, practically vibrating with the anxious feeling creeping through his chest. As if on cue, a bus came barreling around the corner, its lights blinding him momentarily. He stuck his arm out, and once it had stopped, found his way to the back of the bus.

Virgil slumped down at a window seat in a daze - not caring about the odd looks he was receiving from nearby passengers. Instead, he lifted his hood over his head, and leant solemnly against the window. Watching the world go by.

He further curled into his hoodie, stuffing his hands in its large pockets. The lull in traffic movement was doing little to keep him calm; of course, public transport was never particularly reliable.

But it’s all he had.

Moving his head from the window, he leant his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

What the hell did ‘ _just let me die_ ’ even mean.

He raised his head abruptly - what if. He’d messed with time?

It’s not like he’d ever attempted anything of this sort of scale before. What if it was his fault? What if Roman being there was somehow caused by his meddling with time?

He wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to hide the grimace forming on his lips.

It would make sense, right? If he, some time in the future, messed with the past...

No. No that couldn’t be it.

...Could it?

He glanced out the window - his eyes widening as he rushed to press the bell. The bus came rocketing to a halt, and Virgil raced out the door and into the damp night. With a deep breath, he began to run.

Just a moment longer - another few blocks and the tracks would be visible. He bit his lip, so as to not cry out in frustration or pain or both - and then he saw it. Saw the tracks - and heard the distant screeching of a train traversing them.

Virgil took a deep breath, fighting to keep his feet going as he fought his way through an old, rusty gate that prevented too-adventurous children from accidentally getting hit.

“R-Roman!” He yelled, as loud as his voice would allow. He could see it. The orange headlights bathing everything in their path in a warm, fiery light-- and a shadow stood in front of it. “ _N-NO!”_

He practically screamed, his voice giving one last push before it completely gave out. The train passed.

Roman was dead.

Again.

Virgil had been lucky enough to never hear a dying cat scream, but he was pretty sure that’s what he sounded like. Out of anger or frustration or -- something else.

“...Fuck,” he whispered into the cool night air, finally letting his knees give way.

He bit his lip.

He’s come all this way, right? He’d done so much for this damned person-- for. For Roman.

_“Just let me die, Virge.”_

“...Hah. Yeah fucking right.”

...

_Something shifts by the tracks. Virgil is gone._


	4. Back and Fourth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter has graphic descriptions of nightmares, things like boiling/burning alive, suicidal imagery, fire imagery, if this will make you uncomfortable, please skip everything in italics! <3

_ Burning. Boiling. The sounds of water bubbling away brings him to his senses. Virgil blinks awake - a feeling of vertigo sends him reeling forward, and when he looks up, the smell of chlorine hits him like a truck. He keels over, eyes blurry, head stuffy, and realises he’s standing on the edge of a swimming pool. And it writhes beneath his feet, forceful and unrelenting. He feels the heat rise, almost catching his breath in his throat. _

_ Without any warning, he feels his feet slip. His heart pounds in his chest as he begins to fall, grasping for dear life for some sort of edge. He does - barely - his fingers numb against the rough side of the swimming pool. Smoke licks at his feet as he holds on for dear life. He tries to yell, to scream, to make any sort of sound come out of his mouth, but it doesn’t. After all, it’s hard to scream when you’re dreaming-- _   
\--Virgil awoke with a start - his head pounding, unremitting, like it was the worst hangover he’d ever experienced. Even the dull light filtering through the window was causing his eyes to ache and burn and pulse at the back of his skull. His chest tight, his arms heavy - Virgil could barely gather up the courage to move a finger, let alone an arm, much less his whole body.

He rolled over in an attempt to shield his eyes from the light, but all it did was force him into a bout of dizziness. He gritted his teeth, pulling himself out of bed with all the strength in the world. Virgil let out a groan, pushing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to get the pulsing to just  _ stop. _

He trudged over to the bathroom - startled, momentarily, by the way his face looked in the mirror. Pale and ashen, and a thin line of dried blood ran from his nose all the way to his chin. He grimaced, splashing some water in his face and thoroughly scrubbing the blood away, hoping he would at least look a bit presentable.

Quietly, Virgil shrugged on his hoodie and slipped discreetly out the door. His hands shoved deep inside his pockets. The feeling of cool wind at his neck made him shiver, yet was oddly comforting against his clammy skin.

He found himself wincing at every other step as he trudged down the street, garnering several odd looks from passersby. One little old lady even stopped and asked him if he was alright. She commented on how ghostly pale he looked - but when Virgil didn’t bother to answer (out of awkwardness, or his feverish stupor), she quickly left him be.

By the time Virgil made the audition, he could barely even remember why he was there.

His movements were weak and lethargic, so much so that as he stumbled through the door, he evidently made such a scene that those sitting in the waiting area had their faces contort into a look of startled concern.

Truthfully, he could barely see. He made quick work of tripping over his own feet, and as if on cue, another pair of feet appeared just inches away from his own. A pair of arms caught him and when Virgil finally looked up, he saw a familiar face. Curly hair. Blue eyes. A look of quiet unease set firmly on his face.

“Are you alright?” It was Roman. Roman, looking a mix between confused and concerned, tilted his head slightly. “...Do we know each other?”

Virgil could barely even think straight (or ever, really, for that matter,). But, he managed to squint at him in his semi-conscious state and mumble, “No. Not this time” before his entire world went completely black.

_ Hot. Hot hot hot, burning against his skin. He’s yanked away from the edge of the pool by an unknown force, and thrust deep into the vat of boiling water. He opens his mouth to scream, but hot, scalding water just enters his lungs. He struggles to breathe, writhing, trying to scramble his way to the surface - but he just sinks. Sinks all the way to the bottom of the pool and - and then he’s falling. _

_ Falling hard and fast through the air. His stomach drops, but as he looks around he sees nothing - nowhere to hold onto - he’s just falling. The wind catches his breath. He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut as tight as they will go - and then… nothing. He opens his eyes. He’s inside a kitchen - or, rather, just outside one. He recognises it, it’s the kitchen from his old house.  _

_ There are voices that he can’t quite make out. Angry and bitter. He tiptoes closer, fingers just barely touching the door handle as he pulls and peeks into the room. _

_ A kettle boils on the stove. Two people much, much taller than him argue. He hears no words, but he feels them, crushing and debilitating. There’s a pause. The two figures in the kitchen turn, two pairs of eyes stare at him - glower in his direction. There should be words, but there are none. His breath catches, and he shuts the door. The arguing continues, as it always had, and as the kettle begins whistling, he rushes out of the house. _

_ He turns back. The whistling of the kettle still in his ears as he begins to run. He looks up at the sky, grey-black clouds tumble across it with purpose. With a gasp, he turns to find himself in a field. Beyond it is a sprawling dark forest - he watches as the trees begin to close in. The field becomes smaller, until it’s just a clearing, as if he’d changed the size of a camera lens. The space between the trees grows smaller, and he can no longer breathe, no longer see anything but writhing vines and rotting wood. _

_ The hairs on the back of his neck stand up - he feels eyes - eyes on him, like something is coming, like a sense of impending doom. The ground beneath him shakes, and when he turns - the sky is dark. Dark and clouded over, the only thing in the distance is a pair of too-bright headlights. As much as he tries, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. _

_ He looks down - feet glued to sodden wood train tracks. As he lifts his gaze up, he sees it coming, a large, black train. He opens his mouth to scream - Wait - No - but it continues forward in its unyielding course. He screws his eyes shut - arms moving to cover his head, bracing for the impact. But it never comes. _

Virgil awoke shaken and confused - and hot, an unbroken fever bubbling beneath his skin. Distant hushed voices, something cool on his forehead, a touch on his arm. It occurred to him, briefly, that he in fact had no idea where he was. He bolted upright, immediately regretting it for the woozy, light-headed feeling that came across him.

“Oh- You’re awake. Are you alright?”

Virgil was not, in fact, alright.

He turned to the unrecognisable voice, squinting so he could attempt in vain to see through his hazy eyes.

“...You fainted. I’m sorry, I should’ve called an ambulance, but, well, I live really close and-”

It wasn’t until then that slowly, his memory began to filter back in, along with an inexplicable sense of dread. He frowned, trying to assess the unfamiliar location. Red bed sheets. Plush carpet. Desk. A bedroom? He turned, and it quite quickly dawned on him that he knew exactly who this was.

“What’s your name?” The person - now identified as Definitely Roman asked - and Virgil sat a moment with his mouth entirely agape.

“I’m… Virgil.”

“Roman. Roman Prince!”

Virgil felt a slow feeling of alarm creep into his chest. “Wait, the audition--?”

Roman shook his head. “..Sorry. We missed it.”

Virgil sat in shock for a moment. He felt his stomach drop. His chest tightened as he managed to say, “you missed it, too?”

“Well, yeah! You’ve been asleep for a few hours. I guess I wanted to make sure you're alright.”

While Virgil appreciated the sentiment - he couldn’t help but feel an incredible sense of disappointment. He’d made someone miss a likely important audition, all because he couldn’t keep it together for a few minutes.  _ Shit. _

Virgil panicked - screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to kickstart what little of his power he had left. Instead, as he was half way through working himself up, Roman placed a hand on his arm and gave him a pointed look. “It’s fine, you don’t have to do anything,” Roman said.

Virgil froze. “Wait, how do you…” Roman simply pointed to Virgil’s very obvious wrist, metal blocker wrapped around it, and grinned sheepishly. “...Oh.” He grimaced. Of course. “I’m still the one who caused you to miss it…”

“Look- Virgil, right?” Virgil nodded briefly. “Virgil, it was just a low budget show. There’s always the next one!”

There was a pause - Virgil could almost feel Roman studying his demeanor.

“...How do you feel, anyway?” Roman inquired.

Virgil barked out a laugh. “Like I got hit by a truck.” It rang hollow and bitter - and Virgil felt a pit growing in his stomach from the comment. He didn’t look in time to see Roman’s reaction, but...

“I know some people get weird about answering this but… What ability do you have?”

Instinctively, Virgil made to cover the blocker on his wrist with his large hoodie - but quickly decided against it. Roman already knew, anyway.

“It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it-”

He pondered for a moment, mulling it over in his head before, without really giving himself much of a chance to decide, he said, “I can control time.” Another pause. “Well. Control is a loose way of putting it. It’s more like I can ride the waves and sometimes I get yanked underwater and can’t breathe.”

Roman frowned - and Virgil wondered if that’s all anyone ever felt. Damn  _ Pity _ . “That does sound dangerous. No wonder you need that.” Roman pulled backwards on his chair. “My question is-- What’ve you been _ doing _ ? You look like hell - uh, no offense.” Virgil swore he saw a twinkle in Roman’s eye. “How have you been using it this much? Are you on some sort of quest? Finding a long lost love?”

Virgil turned away, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up. “S-Something like that. I suppose.”

Roman leaned back in surprise. “That’s pretty admirable, dude. If someone did that for me, I’d marry them on the spot.” He laughed, “Not that I can- well, nevermind.”

Virgil flopped back onto the pillow, an arm hiding his flushed face. Slowly, he moved his arm a little so he could peek at Roman out of the corner of his eye. “...What’s your power, anyway? You have one right?”

He watched as Roman mirrored the same movement he’d done earlier - pulled his sleeve over his blocker, almost instinctively - and he shrugged.

“It’s kinda hard to explain.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow. He could feel his mouth as it began to run completely dry. “Hard to explain?”

“Well I- I haven’t had it for long, as far as I know. It just kinda came in a few months ago.” He bit his bottom lip with what Virgil could only assume was embarrassment. “I haven’t told anyone about it before, really…” He trailed off meekly before adding, “apart from registering myself, of course.” He lifted his half-hidden blocker and flashed it to Virgil with a toothy grin.

“..So what  _ can _ you do?”

Roman paused a moment to take in a deep, contemplative breath. An unmistakable look of discomfort passed on his face, before finally replying with--

“...I’ll show you.” 


End file.
